A MIRTH-PROVOKING MISSION.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1751, 10 November 1917, Page 1

A MIRTH-PROVOKING MISSION.

CINEMA IN NORTH AFRICA. THE MEDICINE OF LAUGHTER. The beginning of the year found one of the Y.M.C.A. secretaries touring the camps along the coast from Alexandria to the Tripoli frontier. He made no addresses, sold no refreshments, distributed no gifts, yet everyw'here he brought good cheer and enjoyment, everywhere his visits were warmly remembered, and later his return was warmly, welcomed. It is probable that in three months he entertained (and, in a sense, benefited) more men than he had in the previous twelve months’ experience as an Army Y.M.C.A, worker. How was this done? Well, to give credit where credit is due, Charlie Chaplin did most of it, and other film favourites did the rest. A compact portable projector, a storage battery for light, and some 12,000 feet of Him comprised the means for a much-appreciated service. After the first trip none but American films were taken —they were the best liked, even though they were old. The Famous Players, Blue Bird, Lasky, Fox, Griffiths, and other up-to-date productions have not yet reached Egypt. John Bunny may be dead in the flesh, but he yet lives on the screen in these far countries. Was the money and the lime required for this work well spent? Under the circumstances, emphatically yes! The camps visited were 75,100, 175 and 400 miles distant from the nearest daily paper or shop window or white women and children. The troops had been out there from six months to a year. Mail — the only link Avith home —came but once a week, and about Christmastime those weeks were months long. The men had read everything in camp that was worth reading, and much that was not. They had talked and argued and joked with each other until one knew his tent-mate as well as he knew himself. They had whistled themselves into unpopularity with popular airs. They had played the few games available until both men and games were played out. There was nothing new to do, nothing new to see. In their words, they were “abso-bloomin-lutely fed up with everything.” They had never thought to see a moving picture show way out in the desert. It came as an unexpected treat. Probably not since they were children did they find such hearty enjoyment in such simple entertainment. With laughter they shook off their load of depression. A murmur and a sigh of gratification greeted the name of each popular star; an uproar of laughter began when Charlie Chaplin waddled into sight. Chuckles continued until the next film was shown. Slap-stick comedy justified itself; it “had .the punch” that was needed to thoroughly rouse the men.

The following day, and for many a day afterwards, they were brighter of eye, cheerier of countenance, and in better spirit generally than they had been before taking the cinema cure. The entertainment was something more than a mere amusement. It proved to be an excellent tonic.